Sorry my entire site looks like crap. I've had to remove my header and background images, as well as my sidebar badges, thanks to Photobucket, who will get ZERO of my monies. Eventually, I'll deal with broken images in posts.

STARTING 4/8/17: Six Word Saturday is now being hosted by the lovely Debbie at Travel With Intent. If you aren't already following Debbie, please visit her blog for Six Word Saturday and her beautiful photos. I'll continue to participate from time to time but please go to Debbie's for the official posts.

If you aren't receiving email replies to your comments, please see this post.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

I've mentioned before that my husband, Joe, is a very busy man. His work creates a huge amount of time- and brain-strain but he does a great job and everyone loves him. Of course. Because he's Super Joe.

He may not be faster than a speeding bullet or more powerful than a locomotive but instead of x-ray vision, he has the ability to effectively conduct interviews while putting his phone on mute so the job applicant can't hear him slurp his lunch noodles at his desk. I had no idea it was possible to have an actual conversation while using mute but he has taught me that I was limiting my multi-tasking options without that magic button.

However, even Super Joe is human and poor housekeeping skillsthe Fatesplanetary alignment the universe has provided me with a great example earlier this week.

It was Monday night. I was slaving away over microwaving a dish from Emeril frozen vegetables while he grilled steaks for our dinner. That's when he stepped on a piece of glass. He hobbled to the table, rawring in great pain about the "massive chunk of glass" in his foot. Once he decided he couldn't find the infiltrator on his own, he asked me to chase down the tweezers and a flashlight. After a few minutes, I was able to latch onto the teensy bit of glass and remove it from his foot.

Of course, like a man, he wanted to see the offending particle, took the tweezers from me and promptly "accidentally" dropped it back on the floor. Right under my seat at the table. Brilliant.

He then spent 15 minutes washing the wound with peroxide, applied some ointment of some sort, and wrapped it all up in a bandaid. You'd think he broke his leg. Oooooh, the pain!!!

Before bed, he insisted he could still feel glass in there and asked me to check again in case it had worked itself loose. What if it got infected? What if he lost his foot? Laying on the bed, he stuck his foot up in the air for me to examine. I couldn't find the spot and asked where it was. "Under the bandaid!" Except there was no bandaid. "Oh, must've fallen off." I spent a few minutes poking around, found a spot that might've been it, but there was nothing there to tweeze so I gave up. He reapplied ointment and a bandaid.

The next evening, I asked him how his foot had been that day.

Joe: I found the bandaid.me: Was it downstairs?Joe: No. It was on my other foot.me: Huh?Joe: I gave you the wrong foot. The glass was in the other one.me: So you ended up with a bandaid on both feet last night?Joe: Yeah, I noticed when I got in the shower this morning.

Super Joe. I guess he just has too much on his mind to keep track of which foot is experiencing pain due to a major gash.

About Me

It's a blog. I'll probably write stuff in it.
Me, I'm married, no kids, two cats, one boring job. My life isn't that exciting so I like to complicate things with overthinking, health issues, and anxiety attacks. I also enjoy reading, writing, travel (if I could control the anxiety attacks), wine, hockey, and music. And long walks on the beach. And a sugar daddy.